


Primary Care

by LongLiveLaura



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LongLiveLaura/pseuds/LongLiveLaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura seeks medical attention for a condition she can no longer self-treat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primary Care

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after _Epiphanies_.

Laura sat fidgeting nervously on the edge of the examining table in sickbay, her long legs bare and dangling over the side. As she waited to be seen by Cottle, she began to regret having made the appointment with the surly doctor. She reminded herself that desperate times called for desperate measures.

"You again," the doctor grumbled as he stepped through the curtain, pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it. "What is it now?"

Brusque as he was with her, Doctor Cottle had come to genuinely like the stubborn, strong-willed President of the Colonies and had been relieved, happy even, when Baltar's frakked up science had saved her life. He was worried that Laura Roslin was back to see him so soon after having been given a clean bill of health.

Laura looked down at her bare feet, appeared to scrutinize them as the grouchy doctor did his best to fill the small examination area with clouds of blue smoke. She lifted her head, took a deep breath and studiously avoided Cottle's glare.

"Since my cancer was cured..." she began, hesitated and worried the hem of the yellow hospital gown.

Cottle sighed impatiently at her reticence, stubbed out his smoke in a tray on the table behind him.

"Listen here, young lady. I have lots of other patients to see today - _sick people_ who won't appreciate waiting because the president's tongue-tied. Now spit it out."

Chastised by the doctor's rebuke, Laura's realization that she had no other option but to seek his medical assistance had her choking down her embarrassment.

"Since my cancer was cured, I've been ... aroused. Overly so," she said quickly, blushed furiously.

"Aroused? Whaddya mean?" he asked, sat on the nearby stool and began perusing her medical file.

"_Sexually aroused," _she whispered, looked around anxiously to ensure that nobody else could hear her.

Cottle jerked his head up from the paperwork, stared at her in stunned disbelief and shook his head.

"You made an appointment with me because you're _horny_?" he asked. "I'm flattered, Madame President, but have you considered masturbation?"

Her anger at the doctor's glib response finally enabled Laura to look the man in the eyes and she leveled him with a withering glare.

"I think," she said slowly, her green eyes flashing, "the infusion of Cylon blood has ... done something to me. Something other than cure my cancer, I mean." She sighed, continued, "I can't focus on work, I find innuendo in every word spoken to me, I'm ... distracted all the time and yes, I've 'considered' masturbation. But the relief is temporary - I'm powerfully, _irrepressibly_ horn- _aroused _again within an hour or so."

"And this is unusual for you?" he asked, doctorly.

"Yes!" she answered incredulously. "I've always had a healthy sex drive - before I got sick, I mean - but this, _this _is ... of _teenage boy_ proportions."

"Huh," he muttered, considered what she'd said, tried to keep his thoughts from wandering inappropriately. "So you're horny, you're masturbating - reaching orgasm?" he raised his bushy eyebrows at her in question.

"Yes, multiple times. Daily."

"Is _that _normal for you?" he asked out of pure curiosity.

"What, multiple orgasms?" at his nod, Laura shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, I guess. I mean, with the right partner, or the right vibrator, for that matter, I can typically come more than -"

She stopped without finishing the sentence when she realized what she'd said and to whom she'd said it, clapped a hand over her mouth.

For his part, Doctor Cottle looked both uncomfortable and intrigued at the same time. He was unable to prevent from invading his mind the image of Laura Roslin pleasuring herself. His ability to separate the patient from the beautiful, sexually frustrated woman in front of him was becoming increasingly more difficult to control.

"Okay, let me get this straight," he said quietly. "When you were injected with the Cylon baby's blood, your cancer disappeared and your libido went through the roof - that about it?"

Laura nodded mutely and Cottle recorded something in her chart.

"You try intercourse?" he asked without looking up from the thick file in his lap.

She snorted. "Yeah, right. There aren't too many opportunities out there for me, Doc," she said wryly. "Though if this goes on much longer, I'm bound to jump some poor, unsuspecting soul sooner or later and _make_ an opportunity."

"You're a healthy, fine lookin' woman and there's no medical reason you shouldn't be sexually active," Cottle said seriously, looked her in the eye. "I can think of more than a few people who'd be happy to oblige you, Madame President."

"Can we forget about fixing me up with a willing sexual partner and just figure out what the hell is _causing_ this, please?" she pleaded.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll draw blood, run some tests, see if that yields any clues," he paused as he stood, looked over at her. "I'm also gonna wanna perform a gynecological exam."

Laura's hyper-sensitive body reacted to that statement as though the doctor had instead said _'I'm also gonna want to suck your clit before I stuff you full of my big, fat cock.' _She pressed her legs together, closed her eyes and let her head fall back on her neck.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she said plaintively, shook her head. "I don't know what will happen if you... touch me."

Doctor Cottle's eyes narrowed then widened when he realized what she was alluding to. Not for the first time over the course of their conversation, he felt an inappropriate twinge of desire.

"It'll be alright. I'm a doctor - I've seen it all," he said, cleared his throat. "Now, uh, lay down on your back, bend your knees and put your feet flat on the mattress."

"Oh my gods," Laura whimpered, swung her legs up onto the table with a rustle of the sterile paper underneath her, followed the doctor's instructions with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. When he rolled his stool nearer the foot of the bed, Laura balled her hands into fists at her sides.

"Scoot your bottom closer to the edge," he ordered gently, watched with something far from professional interest as she gracefully complied.

Cottle noted her closed eyes, sat down on the stool between her trembling legs and took a very long, very unprofessional look at the president's ... female anatomy. He admired the way she'd trimmed her coppery curls, shaved them into a thin strip. He could see immediately that she was ... well-lubricated. '_Wet,' _his traitorous mind supplied, and damned if his cock didn't twitch. Though he'd picked up a pair of gloves, he had no intention of pulling them on and hastily sat them aside. He had a sudden compulsion to feel Laura's slick heat on his bare hands, did not want the barrier of dry latex.

As he reached out, dragged a finger through her silky folds and probed her opening, Cottle's dick jumped, began to stiffen, and he sucked in a ragged breath.

"You're gonna feel some pressure," he rumbled, looked up to her face from between her legs and pushed two fingers inside her vagina.

_'Tight.' _The thought came to Cottle unbidden as he breached the president's body.

When Laura moaned and lifted her hips off the bed, Cottle clenched his jaw at her reaction to his touch, instinctively hooked his fingers inside her body and pressed rhythmically into the rough, spongy flesh of her G-spot.

"_Oh my gods," _Laura gasped, dropped back down to the table and circled her hips.

Having already _leapt_ over the line of professionalism, Cottle wanted nothing more than to stand up, push his cock into the writhing president and frak her properly. His aged body, however, betrayed his burning desire and his dick remained only semi-rigid. Without further thought, he pushed his thumb onto Laura's clit and began to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of her hot, creamy sex.

"Gods, _yes," _she moaned, pushed shamelessly down into the doctor's hand.

"Keep it down," he ordered gruffly and Laura bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out.

Cottle wrapped a hand around her slender ankle and continued to frak her with his fingers, bent his head close to watch. The smell of her arousal was intoxicating, the sound of his thick digits sloshing in and out of her wetness mesmerizing. When he felt a tightening of her inner muscles, Cottle stood quickly, kicked the stool out of his way and pressed Laura's knees apart. He began pumping into her more quickly, with more force, moved his other hand to take over rubbing her clit with firm circles.

His white head snapped up when Laura sucked in a long breath, arched her back off the table, grabbed her breasts roughly and squeezed them together. Cottle groaned at the erotic sight of her body contorting with the intensity of her orgasm, grunted at the unexpected, overwhelming sensation of ejaculating at the same time the blood finally rushed to harden his cock.

When he jerked in surprised pleasure, he inadvertently shoved his fingers deep inside her, causing Laura to gasp and shudder as the last of her orgasm rippled through her slackening body.

With the sudden clarity of mind that, upon climax, replaces blind sexual desire, Doctor Cottle realized that though Laura had long quieted, his hand was still buried between her legs. He withdrew from her so quickly that Laura startled at the movement and her eyes flew open, locked onto his and widened as the reality of what had just happened slammed into her with full force.

Cottle averted his gaze, wiped his hands on his lab coat as Laura flung an arm up to cover her eyes. He turned his back to the examining table, cast a quick glance down at the front of his trousers and was relieved to find no outward evidence of the mess he'd made in his shorts.

"I'll, uh," he started, cleared his throat, "I'll give you a minute, send Ishay in to draw that blood."

Laura unnecessarily acknowledged the statement he'd thrown over his shoulder with a quick nod of her head as Cottle moved quickly out through the drape.

  



End file.
